“I am all ears,” he groaned, as he dipped his knuckle lower, rubbing the top of her breasts.
Victoria gripped the box’s railing, looking like a patron completely enthralled with Shakespeare. In fact, it would not have been a surprise for those who knew her well enough. She could not breathe. The sheer audacity of their silent and yet public intimacy sent a thrill through her.
With the sounds increasing to signal the peak of the first act, the duke reached to a nipple and circled it repeatedly with his rough thumb. The duchess could only whimper her secret pleasure. He looked just as enthralled by the performance, with his chest pressing against the back of her chair, as he fondled her breast.
“I-is this wise?” she breathed, as her toes curled in her satin shoes.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
“N-no,” she admitted.
He squeezed her breast hard, rubbing the nipple more avidly.
“I wish it were my mouth giving you pleasure, the hard bud on my tongue. So delicious,” he murmured, as his squeezing became rhythmic.
Victoria’s heart pounded hard. She knew he could feel it on the palm of his hand – that same one weighing her breast.
“It’s too much,” she sighed, but she did not make a move to pull away from him.
The pleasure was too much. The added thrill of perhaps being caught by the judging eyes of the ton made her pulse between her thighs.
“I shall stop when you tell me to stop,” he promised darkly, his warm breath so close to her ear.
The possible danger to their reputation sent her on edge. So, no, Victoria could not find the words to refuse him. To refuse herself.
“You devil,” she whispered, instead, overwhelmed by his ministrations and the scent of sandalwood and pure masculine heat emanating from him.
“Ah, it’s time you get to know me, my Duchess,” he replied. “Touch yourself. Place your hand under your dress.”
“No. They will see.”
“Not now. Remember, I’ve contemplated the play,” he said urgently.
True enough, the loud drums and the shouting onstage would attract everyone’s undivided attention. Still, she was careful. She placed her hand beneath her thigh and rubbed herself from there. At first, it did nothing but frustrate her. However, as her fingers made contact with her slit through the silk, she felt her chest heat.
Richard stopped fondling her breast. Disappointment coursed through her until she realized that he was moving directly beside her. His eyes were focused on the stage, but his hand quickly made its move to her skirts.
“W-what?”
“Put your shawl over my hand, darling,” he commanded softly.
“Who puts a shawl on their lap?” she asked.
“You, my dear. I know you are so close to your completion,” he said smugly.
With a huff, she obeyed his order, and soon his hand rustled her skirt up through the side and quickly found her.
“Such talent you have,” she panted, as he cupped her mound.
“Of course,” he said. “We are, after all, getting more acquainted with each other, wife.”
A finger slipped in, and Victoria let out a low moan, which was swallowed by the audience’s applause. Richard rhythmically used his fingers to pleasure her until she reached her release.
“I – I cannot stay here for longer,” she gasped. “You can’t keep on doing this.”
This time, he retreated, but not before giving her a predatory smile.
“I am so sorry that you feel faint, my dear,” Richard said, his voice a little louder.
